Lost, then found
by Tovaras
Summary: Don't ask me why I wrote it... I just... Had to get it out off my system! Please don't hate me... Read to find out what it's about.


Lost, then found  
  
Author: Dragongirl85 E-mail: Golddragon85@hotmail.com Parings: Oliver/Percy Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related paraphernalia belong to J. K. Rowling's, the best writer in the world (go on girl!) and bla bla bla. I'm making no money for writing this. Don't sue, you won't get much anyway, unless you want a cranky, old cat, a fucked up cell-phone and a baaaaaaad computer. Rating: PG-13 Notes: Okay, I've given you guys Oliver on his best (ya know, the Christmas carol I wrote?). Now I'm bringing you him at his worst? *sigh* This isn't really me, you know. I like to write happy stuff. I was challenged okay! Don't sue me please!!!! Warning: Oliver's talking is Glaswegian slang. Archive: Sure, but please ask first.:) ***  
  
I've always been lost, even though I didn't know it before it was almost to late for me. It's only lately that I've started to search for the real me, not the person I'm trying to be. Who am I?  
  
***  
  
"Faster, Bell! Faster!"  
  
The quidditch captain groaned when Katie maneuvered away from the stands before she crashed, and the quaffle she was aiming for disappeared. Fred flew down and looked carefully at the annoyed Scott, keeping a distance.  
  
"Ol, we've been training for hours. We're tired and hungry and need some rest."  
  
Oliver still frowned towards Katie, ignoring Fred's pleading eyes. "The problem lies in the team's speed. We're to slow," he muttered to himself.  
  
Fred groaned and flew in front of the captain. "Damn, Oliver. we're tired and want to rest. None of us is goanna fly any faster today, unless it's downwards because we're falling of our brooms," he said dryly, looking strictly at the captain. Oliver slightly raised an eyebrow and looked at the team. Alicia yawned and tried to keep her eyes up. George hold on to his broom for dear life and Angelina was pretty much asleep.  
  
"Alright." Oliver sighed before he whistled at the team to get their attention. "Okay, let's call it a day. Pack up the stuff and hit the showers everybody, and no Fred, George, you cannot shower with the girls."  
  
The twins sniggered and flew up to catch the bludgers. Harry just sighed and flew down, the snitch secure in his hand. He lied it on it's place before he grabbed his firebolt and walked quickly towards the Gryffindor locker room.  
  
Oliver looked at his players backsides and sighed. He crabbed the quidditch- box under his arm and walked slowly after them.  
  
***  
  
I'm lost. Why can't anybody find me? Why can't I find myself? Where am I? Who am I?  
  
***  
  
Oliver walked up to the seventh-grade dormitory, only to find Percy Weasley there, doing his homework. He quickly gave his lover a peek on the cheek, before he turned and threw himself on his bed, face down. He heard footsteps and felt that somebody sat down next to him.  
  
"Hard day on the field?" Percy asked and gently started to massage Oliver's back. Oliver's only reply to the question was a groan. Percy chuckled.  
  
"What are you laughing about? The team is in serious trouble!"  
  
Percy carefully kissed Oliver's neck, nuzzling the hair with his nose. "Don't be silly. Your team is the best. You're the best."  
  
Oliver snorted and rolled over onto his back, catching his lovers gaze.  
  
"I'm the worst, and I've dragged the team with me into the mud. They suck! I suck!"  
  
Percy grinned and kissed Oliver's throat. "Yes you do and you're very good at it too."  
  
Oliver frowned and pushed his lover away. "Not funny, Percy!" He got onto his feet and Percy followed him.  
  
"I'm only joking, Oliver. You don't suck, you're the best captain there is."  
  
"Then how come we haven't won the quidditch cup since I became captain?" Oliver asked and pushed Percy's hands away from his chest. "No, what I need to do is to train them harder and more often."  
  
Percy looked carefully at his lover. "Oliver, you're already pressing them pretty hard. I don't think pressing them harder is goanna help."  
  
Percy wrapped his arm around the quidditch-players slim waist and slightly caressed Oliver's chest with his hand. "Besides, you're already the best for me." Oliver didn't reply to it, so Percy started to place gently, butterfly kisses on his jaw and down his throat. Oliver groaned and released himself from his lovers embrace.  
  
"Would you stop that! I'm not in the mood for cuddling!"  
  
And with that, he walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
***  
  
When did I start to push people away from me? The people that I love and loves me back? Or do they? Am I loved and am I able to love? Have I ever loved, or has anybody loved me? Some say they do, but is it true? Can I trust them, when I can't trust myself?  
  
***  
  
Oliver looked strictly at the team.  
  
"Now, I want you to do your best at the field today. Fly like you did on our last practice. And Harry." Oliver locked his chocolate brown eyes with Harry's green ones. "If I've ever have needed you to catch the snitch before, it's noting like I need you to get it quick today. Catch the snitch or die trying."  
  
Harry swallowed and nodded. Oliver smiled gently at him, before he turned his attention to the field. "Now, let's give them our best!"  
  
***  
  
Oliver looked strictly at the team. The Slytherin team was leading with over 60 points and Oliver was pissed.  
  
"What's wrong with you?! What the hell do you call this?! What are you doing on the pitch?! You're not playing quidditch, that's for sure!"  
  
Oliver frowned towards Alicia. "Bell, why the hell did you do that maneuver? It's been easier if you've just given the quaffle to Flint instead of crashing into the goal-post!"  
  
"Ol," Fred started carefully. "She was pressed out by the beaters. She had no other way to go."  
  
"Shut up, Weasley! And where the hell were you when that bludgers hit Johnson?! She could have scored!"  
  
George frowned. "We were a little preoccupied with the other bludgers that almost crushed your nose!"  
  
Oliver looked like he wanted to slap the Weasley twin. "Don't get smart on me! Your mission is to take care of the team. Next time, take care of them, not me! I can handle a broken nose!"  
  
"Hey!" Fred got up. "You said our mission is to take care of the team. Well, you're a part of the team too!"  
  
A loud slap was heard and Fred stammered backwards, his left hand on his left cheek.  
  
"I told you not to get smart on me, Weasley!" Oliver shouted before he turned to the girls. "I want all of you to give a 110% or else. So go out there and give your best!"  
  
The chasers silently got up and grabbed their brooms. Fred followed Harry out, but George remained. Oliver looked at him.  
  
"I told you to get back on the pitch, George."  
  
George looked coolly at the captain. "Who the hell are you? You're not the captain I used to know."  
  
And with that, he turned and went out, leaving a quiet captain behind.  
  
***  
  
When did I become so. So hard? So strict? I'm hurting my friends. I don't want that. This. This isn't me. Or is it? I don't know anymore.  
  
***  
  
Oliver looked strait at the seeker way up in the sky, not really concentrating on anything else. He didn't have to. He was born to ride a broomstick. He was born to play quidditch. He had developed a sixth sense when it came to save quaffles. He knew exactly where and when the ball would strike. He just had to keep an eye on where it was. The rest was easy. Quidditch was his game, his life. The only thing he cared for. The only ting he needed.  
  
Harry pressed his body down on the broom, trying to get it to move faster. The snitch was just out of reach. He couldn't let Oliver down. Not again. He was already pissed enough on the team. He had hit Fred.  
  
Oliver made a quick maneuver and got the quaffle out of the Gryffindor goal area and into chaser Spinnets arms. He frowned towards the blurry character that belonged to Harry and the black ball chasing him. A bludger! Didn't Harry see it? He couldn't let Harry get knocked out now, he was so close to catch the snitch. If he failed now, Gryffindor would have lost the cup for sure. He had to stop it. Where the hell was his beaters?  
  
Oliver pressed himself down at the broom, pleading for it to go faster. He had to stop the bludger. The twins were on the other side of the field, they would never reach Harry in time. With all his might, he crashed into the bludger. He lost his grip around the broom and fell. Barely hearing the gasps from the crowd, he hit the ground. Looking up at Harry with one eye half closed, he saw the young seeker grasping the snitch, catching it. They'd won the game. Oliver smiled before he closed his eyes and let himself sink into darkness.  
  
***  
  
I'm sinking into darkness, into memories. Maybe now I can find who I am, except from the one I'm trying to be.  
  
I can hear them call for me. The voices are so familiar, but I can't remember who they belong to. They tell me to wake up, but I can't do that. Not before I've found myself. When did it all start?  
  
***  
  
"Nice shoot, Ollie. I'm sure you'll become a great captain at one of the house teams when you start at Hogwarts."  
  
"Do you really think so?"  
  
Now I know when it started. It started so long ago. Why did you leave me?  
  
Alexander. My brother. My big brother. Thirteen years older than me, quidditch-captain and head boy. Perfect in every way. How could I live up to him when he taught me everything I know?  
  
I smiled. I was happy. He said I was good even though I was just five years old. I loved him. He always had time for me, even though he was so much older than me. At least he used to have time for me. Our parents thought he was perfect. They only paid attention to him. What about me? What about Oliver? I'm here, why can't they see me too?  
  
***  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but he hasn't woke up yet."  
  
I can feel somebody taking my hand, squeezing it lightly. I know that squeeze. I've felt it before.  
  
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."  
  
Pomfrey? Where have I heard that name before?  
  
"Oliver? Can you hear me? If you can, then please wake up. Please. For me, Oliver. For Percy."  
  
Percy? Who's that? I know the name. And who's Oliver? Is that me? Is that who I am?  
  
He wants me to wake up, but I can't. Not yet. Not until I've found myself.  
  
Red. Everything is red. Red like a quaffle. Red like blood. Red like the blood that covered my brother. It was my fault. I wanted him away so that my parents could notice me as well- I wished him away and you-know-who granted me that wish. He granted it in battle. My brother was lost in the battle. He wasn't even finished at school. I was the only thing my parents had left, but they still didn't notice me. I still wasn't seen. They still cared only for my dead brother. Why can't you see me as well?!  
  
***  
  
"Mmm."  
  
Percy jerked his head up. "Oliver?" He watched as his lover started to move his head. "Madam Pomfrey! He's waking up!"  
  
Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, before he gently opened them. Everything around him was blurry, even the face right in front of his own.  
  
"Oliver."  
  
Oliver frowned, trying to figure out who the voice belonged to.  
  
"Oliver. It's me. It's Percy."  
  
Oliver gently sat up, still looking at the boy next to him. "Excuse me, but."  
  
"Yes?" Percy grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Oliver looked at his hand in Percy's.  
  
There is that squeeze again. Did he gave it to me? But who is he?  
  
"Can you. Can you please tell me who you are and why you're holding my hand?"  
  
Percy gasped and let go of Oliver's hand. "Oliver? Don't you recognize me?"  
  
Oliver looked down. "Sorry, but. I can't say I do." Percy was shocked. His lover didn't recognize him. Oliver didn't recognize the boy he had shared a room with for 7 years. He didn't recognize the boy he had crawled into bed with in the middle of the night for the last year and a half. He didn't recognize Percy.  
  
Madam Pomfrey came into the room and laid a hand on the shocked teens shoulder. "Please come with me, Mr. Weasley."  
  
Percy kept his gaze on the boy in the bed, but followed her into her office.  
  
"Please sit down, Mr. Weasley."  
  
Percy sat down and looked at her. "What's wrong with him? Why don't he recognize me?"  
  
"The impact with the bludger gave him some smaller damages on the back on his skull. The fact that he hit the ground with the back of his head first didn't help on the damages."  
  
Percy gasped. "Will he be.?"  
  
"He'll be fine, Mr. Weasley. He's a tuff man with a thick skull. Not surprisingly after all the bludgers he's been hit by. But I think this bludger was to much for his brain. He suffers from a pretty heavy case of amnesia."  
  
"M-memory loss?"  
  
"Yes. He will need all the support and help he can get to recover. You'll have to tell him what he suffers from, and you and his friends must show him good memories from his life, but also bad ones." Percy gasped, but Madam Pomfrey raised his hand. "I know it may sound cruel, but it is necessary to show him bad memories too. His mind and heart will open to those kind of memories and he will recover more quickly."  
  
Percy looked down, a single tear trailed down his cheek. "I will do what's necessary to get him well."  
  
Madam Pomfrey looked softly on him. "Mr. Weasley. Percy. I know this is hard for you because of your. Intimate position with captain Wood. But imagine how he feels right now. He's trapped inside of his own mind and is surrounded by people he doesn't know, but still there is this little voice that says that he does."  
  
Percy nodded. "You'll have to be brave for him, Mr. Weasley. He needs you." Percy nodded again and got up. "I'll do my best, Madam Pomfrey."  
  
"I know you will, Mr. Weasley."  
  
Back in the Hospital Wing, Oliver wood sat onto his bed and studied his hands.  
  
These hands. What's with this hands? They're so important to me. I can remember that. But how do I use them? Why are they so important to me? They're just. Hands.  
  
"Oliver?"  
  
Percy sat down next to him and Oliver looked up. "Oh, right. That's me isn't it? You called me by that name some minutes ago."  
  
Percy tried to smile. "That's right. Oliver's your name. It's you."  
  
Oliver tried to smile as well, but failed. "I'm. I'm so confused. I can't remember that I've seen anything around here, but still it feels so. Familiar." He looked at Percy. "Does it sound weird?"  
  
Percy shook his head. "No. No, not at all. And it not strange that this place feels so familiar to you. You spend a lot of time here." Oliver looked at him and Percy swallowed. "Oliver. You. You suffer from a case of memory loss. That's why you can't remember anything. But I'll do my best to bring your memory back. I'll do anything I can to help you." Tears were finding their way out of Percy's eyes and trailed down his cheeks in big rivers. Automatically, Oliver raised his hand to dry them away.  
  
Why is he crying? Wait! I'm also crying!  
  
Tears started to trail down Oliver's cheeks as well, but he let them fall. "Don't cry. Please don't cry. It hurts inside of me when you do. I don't know how and I don't know why, but I trust you." Oliver flashed him one of his most charming smiles. The smile that made Percy Weasley fall in love with him in the first place. "I know that you can help me."  
  
Percy smiled and dried away Oliver's tears. "Thank you. Thank you for trusting me, Oliver."  
  
This is so strange. I've never seen this guy before, but still he's so familiar. His touch. His voice. I don't know why, but I trust him. Something inside of me says that I would trust him with my life. Is that what I'm doing now? He says he can help me, so he must hold the key to who I am. He can help me. I know it.  
  
***  
  
A couple of days had gone since the accident with the bludger and Oliver Wood still kept himself in the Hospital Wing. Sometimes Percy would stop by and show him some pictures of his family, but none of them rung a bell. He had told him some stories from their previous years together, but Oliver just shook his head. He couldn't remember anything of it. Percy had told him that he didn't have much spare time, but he was working to get it so he could spend more time with him. Percy was the only one who spend time with him. Nobody else had stopped by. Some had tried, but Madam Pomfrey told them that he needed more time to get his thought in order.  
  
So now he was staring out the window, eyes closed and mind fixed to straiten his thought up. He wanted to remember. He really did. But he was scared of what he could find. He was scared of what kind of person he was. Something inside of him gave him a bad warning. He would just have to dive in and figure it out.  
  
"Captain Wood? Oliver?"  
  
Oliver turned around. At least he was able to remember his name now. Madam Pomfrey smiled to him from the door.  
  
"Would you fancy some company? I got a dark haired boy here that really wants to see you."  
  
Oliver smiled. "Sure. Just send him in."  
  
Madam Pomfrey nodded and a few seconds later, Harry Potter was in the room.  
  
"Hi there," Oliver smiled and sat down. "Sorry but."  
  
"- but you can't remember me. I know." Harry looked down. "I'm Harry Potter, your failure as a seeker."  
  
"Failure? What do you mean?" Oliver was confused. This boy surely didn't look like a failure.  
  
"You property don't remember, but this is my fault. It's my fault that you've become like this." The dark haired boy was on the verge of tears. "I was so busy trying to catch the snitch that I didn't notice the bludger that was after me. If I've notice, you wouldn't have needed to take the bludger for me and you wouldn't have ended up like this. I'm sorry, Oliver. Please forgive me! Please, give me another chance!"  
  
Forgive him? For what? What is he talking about?  
  
Big tears trailed down Harry's cheeks and he got up. "I-I'm sorry. I'll go now, Oliver. Sorry for the disturbance." And with that, Harry left, leaving Oliver in his own thoughts.  
  
***  
  
I'm starting to remember the past now. I'm trying so bad to pull out the good stuff, but I only get the bad. The war, my brothers death, you-know- who.  
  
My mother and father was depressed after Alexander's death. They missed him so I decided to become him. I wanted their attention so bad so I started to follow his footsteps. I started at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry and immediately entered the quidditch house team. When the old captain left the school, I became the new captain. I almost become like my brother. But I never made prefect. Someone else did. Red hair, freckles. He sounds so familiar.  
  
When I knew that I'd never become head boy, I wanted to be a better quidditch player than my brother. I pressed the team hard, I wanted to be the best. Everybody got so tired, so worn out, but I continued to press them harder. Especially the black haired kid. He was here with me today. I pressed him so hard. He already has so much on his shoulders, but I still pressed him. The poor kid. What have I done?  
  
***  
  
"Oliver?"  
  
Oliver stared out of the window in the seventh grade dormitory. The dormitory Percy said he shared with him. He stared towards the quidditch pitch.  
  
"What are you looking at?" Percy walked over to the window.  
  
"The pitch." Oliver answered slowly. Percy smiled. "Your favorite place. You used to fly there every day. You were born for quidditch. You're one of the best players Hogwarts has. You used to go out there every morning before the sun was up and sit down on the grass, watching the sun as it stood up over the goal posts. Then you used to fly around the posts and let the sun lick your face and the wind mess up your hair. You were always so happy after that. Do you remember that?"  
  
Percy looked at his lost friend, hoping that the pitch would bring up some nice memories, but Oliver looked away from the pitch. "No, I can't. But there's something about the pitch. It's calling for me, but it's also giving me a bad feeling." Oliver frowned towards the pitch. "The sight is making me sick."  
  
I've hurt so many people on that pitch. I've hurt so many people because of the sport. Was that sport really that important to me? More important that the people around me and the people I love?  
  
Oliver closed the curtains. "Sorry, Percy. But I can't look at the pitch." He sat down on his bed and stared out in the room.  
  
"Percy?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Can we look at the last pictures in the photo album again?"  
  
Percy smiled and fetched it. "Of course." He sat down next to his friend and opened it. The first picture was of Oliver and Ron. They were down in the common room, playing chess. As the picture Oliver laid his arm in cross, the real Oliver pointed at the picture Ron.  
  
"That's Ron, right? Your youngest brother."  
  
"Right. You're starting to remember who's who now."  
  
Oliver smiled. "I try."  
  
The next picture showed a smiling Oliver and Percy. They were holding hands and waived towards the camera.  
  
"That's us. We'd just got together and told everybody. A big party was hold for us, and we lost 50 point from Gryffindor because of all the noise the party was making. But it was worth it."  
  
Oliver stroked a finger over the picture. "We look happy."  
  
Percy sniffed. "We was happy. Very happy. And I know we'll become happy again some day."  
  
Oliver closed his eyes. There was so many things going on in his head. New images, new memories. He clenched his hands into his hair.  
  
"Unng."  
  
"Oliver? Is everything alright?"  
  
"My head. It hurts." Oliver dug his nails into his head. He wanted to rip the memories out of his head. He wanted to remember. Tears trailed down his cheeks and two arms wrapped themselves around his shoulder.  
  
Memories are flouting into my head, into my brain. Everyday I discover something new, but all of a sudden, everything is flouting strait back into my head. I was right. Percy hold the key. All the pictures of us together, I knew he was important to me.  
  
I'm starting to remember. I was never my brother. I will never become him. He's dead and he can never be brought back. I used his memory to get attention from out parents and instead of loosing just one son, they lost both. They lost Oliver and I became someone new. I will never become my brother, I can only be me. I can only become me. I have to find the real me. The one I lost so many years ago.  
  
Brown hair, sparkling brown eyes, well build lean body, the thick Scottish voice. That's me now. But that's just the wrappings around the real me. I was sensitive, kind, nice, I used to care. The passion I had for what I did. That's me. That's the person I've lost. Why did I push such a person away. Why did I become like this instead? Rude, careless, just wanting to win. I still have the passion, but it's not the same passion. I push people away from me. I'm hurting them. I can change. I'm goanna change!  
  
"Oliver? Oliver, are you alright?"  
  
Oliver opened his eyes and looked at Percy. Percy smiled and hugged. "Thank God, I thought I lost you."  
  
"P-Perce?"  
  
Percy let go. He had never told Oliver his nickname. It had never crossed his mind to do that.  
  
"O-Oliver?"  
  
Oliver wrapped his arms around the shocked teen. "I-I remember, Perce. I remember everything." He let go of the red-head and pulled away. "My God. What a horrible person I was."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Oliver looked up at his lover and best friend. "I pushed people away, Percy. I hurt people. I bet Fred didn't tell you, but during the break at the last quidditch match I hit him." Oliver started to sob and buried his face in his hands. "I hit him in the face, Perce. I hurt him and for what? Just because I wanted to win a lousy quidditch match."  
  
Percy wrapped his arm around the teen and Oliver clenched himself to Percy's robes. "I-I don't want to hurt anyone, Percy. I didn't mean to do it. It's. It's not me. I-it's not who I am."  
  
"It's okay, Oliver. It's okay."  
  
"No, it's not!" Oliver looked at him with his big eyes. He let go of the teen and got up.  
  
"Oliver? Where are you going?"  
  
Oliver looked at the red head and smirked. "I have some thing so do. But I promise I'll be back and then you'll see that I'm not the guy you fell in love with. I'm much better that that." He hurried out of the dormitory and down the stairs. Inside of the common room, Harry and Ron was playing chess, while the rest of the quidditch team was playing exploding snap. Harry was the first to notice that Oliver had appeared in the room.  
  
"Oliver. How are you feeling?"  
  
Oliver smiled. "Fine, thank you." Then his face became serious. "Harry. Come here. I need to talk to you." Harry looked at Ron, but walked slowly towards the taller boy. Oliver looked strictly at the younger boy.  
  
"I need to talk about your performance at the last quidditch game." Harry gasped and everybody in the room turned to face the brunette.  
  
"Harry. Your performance. Was absolutely brilliant. Everybody was brilliant. I couldn't have asked for a better team." Oliver kneeled down so he could see the boy in the face. "Harry. I remember that you came down to me when I was in the Hospital Wing. I remember that you asked me to forgive you and give you another chance. And Harry. I forgive you, if you can forgive me. I'll give you another chance, if you can give me one."  
  
Oliver got back up on his feet's and looked at everybody. "I'm remembering a lot now. Enough to remember that the way I've treated you is bad. I already have the best team I can get. What more can I ask for?" Oliver sniffed. "Except for you to forgive me for the way I've treated you all. I'm sorry."  
  
Fred and George approached him, identical strict faces plastered on the identical faces. "Well, you've treated us bad,"  
  
"called us names,"  
  
"hitting us,"  
  
"dragged us up in the middle of the night to discuss quidditch tactics,"  
  
"not to mention hurt us mentally."  
  
Oliver swallowed. Fred looked at his brother and the strict faced turned into two identical grins.  
  
"Of course we forgive you, you git."  
  
All the team gathered themselves around their captain and hugged his as best as they could. Oliver smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth from his friends and fellow team mates.  
  
***  
  
I'm not lost anymore. I'm found. And this time, I won't disappear again. I've realized that I can never become my brother. I can never become Alexander. I can only be one person and that is me. I'm not my brother. I am Oliver Wood.  
  
***  
  
Author's Notes: Short, depressing. ARG, why did I write it?! At least it has an happy ending. And a very open ending. I know that it was a very quick ending, but I wanted to finish it before I got tired of it. It seemed so good in my head. Screw it, just tell me what you thought about it people. Oh, about the amnesia thing. I've never suffered from it myself, and I don't know anybody that has. I have no idea what so ever when it comes to the persons feelings. I'm just guessing. So if anybody knows more about it than me, let me know and I'll see if I can make some changes. Remember, I live for your review. Thankee! 


End file.
